


Requiem

by onewgiri



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: ChanSoo - Freeform, M/M, onemorechansoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 07:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11308155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onewgiri/pseuds/onewgiri
Summary: Park Chanyeol is an enthusiastic and somewhat naive young reporter investigating sticking his nose in a string of gruesome unsolved murders taking place in the city. He crosses paths with special agent Do Kyungsoo of the FBI, a man who likes to play by the book and has a distaste for loud, nosy amateurs like Chanyeol. As a result of their unlikely collaboration, they find themselves running for their lives.





	Requiem

**Author's Note:**

> warnings of mentioned character deaths.  
> originally posted for onemorechansoo

 

 

 

Kyungsoo stares at the notebook lying in the table, embedded with scribbles and names he can trace from the back of his mind. There’s a cup of cold coffee beside it, untouched and abandoned, obviously been prepared hours from now and yet still half-full. Across it are few torn pages and a picture of a twelve year-old boy with a greasy smile.  
  
He tears the page away, crumples it, and throws it to the pile of crumpled papers at the corner of the room, overflowing from the trash bin. Then all that is left is nothing but blue parallel lines in a blank, clean page.  
  
Kyungsoo grabs his pen and tries to start all over again. Delete, refresh, restart.  
  
He writes one name, and another. The first name is an old acquaintance, a puppet of the government, a person he had worked with before. He remembers addressing this man with respect a lot of times in the past, way back when he was younger and confused. _Hyung, I trust you in this. Hyung I’m— I’m scared._ Then his eyes land on the name next to the first. It’s a name that hadn’t been placed next to his, a name he was never able to utter, but he did hear of it, being a common favorite, from both Minseok and Sehun.  
  
Below those names, Kyungsoo scrawls more information. Time of death, place of death, cause of death... His hands stop in the cause death, taps the ballpen on it, before he encircles it twice. _Shot with paralysis drug, one shot in the heart, one shot in the head._  
  
The sound of the television from the background suddenly zooms in as soon as Kyungsoo hears the intro marking for the News Flash. He drops his pen and sits back the couch with a crease in his eyebrows.  
  
A young man with big eyes and big ears and too big everything appears on the screen, mic and script in hand. There are bright yellow caution tapes behind him, police officers sweeping the crowd away, and distant siren noises from police cars in the background.  
  
_Last night, July 29 2015, around 2:13 to 2:25 am, another murder has occurred in the busy streets of Gangnam. A 22-year old Chinese immigrant by the name of Huang Zitao was found dead early this morning in an alley near Gangnam Mall. According to the one who found the victim, he was taking out trash when he saw the body. Thinking it was a drunkard, he ignored it at first until he looked closer and found bullet shots in the head and chest. One of the cars parked around the area surrendered its blackbox with a footage of the victim being carried to the alley where he was shot to death._  
  
Kyungsoo writes Huang Zitao down his notebook, another painfully familiar name, as he watches the blackbox footage of Zitao, in his usual fancy clothes, being carried by two men in black clothes, black caps, and black mask, to an alley where the camera couldn’t follow them anymore. He was not moving, but his eyes were wide open and, if the quality was any better, Kyungsoo would have sworn he was crying. Fast forward and the men are seen leaving the crime scene with a black Audi with no plate number.  
  
Kyungsoo looks down in his notebook. _Shot with paralysis drug, one shot in the heart, one shot in the head._  
  
_Within the month of July, one other murder occurred within Gangnam and another one in the streets of Hongdae, both closely identical in terms of way of killing. Autopsy is currently being performed by the FBI to confirm whether the cause of death is the same as the previous killings. Had these be proven to be related with each other, a special investigative team will be formed to solve the chain murders._  
  
_Reporting for News Flash, Park Ch—_  
  
Kyungsoo shuts the television off and fishes for his phone in his pocket. He dials Junmyeon.  
  
It doesn’t even take a ring before the agent answers. “Special FBI Agent D.O.-sshi. How may I help you?” Junmyeon utters as soon as the call was on. Kyungsoo wonders if he had been expecting him to phone.  
  
“These _really_ are chain murders. You know too well.” Kyungsoo hisses.  
  
Junmyeon from the other line sighs, worry and fear oblivious in his voice, yet Kyungsoo knows he’s far from relaxed. Senior agents seem to not learn of the word. Especially Junmyeon, he is something else, something _more._ “I know.” Junmyeon flatly replies, sighing, this time deeper. “Three down.”  
  
“Four.” Kyungsoo corrects.  
  
Junmyeon clears his throat. “So, what do you plan to do? Contact the others? Occupy the China hideout? Fake our deaths? I can help you with what you want.” Junmyeon asks in an even flatter tone like he was reciting a menu. Kyungsoo taps his pen hysterically on the notebook.  
  
“Allow me to be the head of the Special Investigative Unit, Sir.”  


 

 

  
  
\--

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
His first and only lead is the black Audi used as an escape vehicle.  
  
With his connections within the statistical office and a little hand from Senior Agent Suho, Kyungsoo was able to find out the number of black Audi owners within and around Gangnam district, together with their corresponding registered owners. _a total number of twenty-three, all high to middle end personalities._ Kyungsoo was also able to get a clearer copy of the blackbox footage and was able to tell the exact car model. _2015 Audi S3._ It’s a limited edition model, thankfully. Kyungsoo sorts down his list into four.  
  
He’s now in the front of a large house with a modern contemporary design, lurking around its perimeter while trying not to look too suspicious. He’s contemplating to confront the owner like the other two leads he had, but no black Audi S3 can be seen in sight. He checks for any possibility of underground parking and finds none. The house is empty, too.  
  
Agent Suho’s name flashes in his cellphone screen and Kyungsoo easily swipes to reject, not wanting a lecture in the middle of an investigation. Suho sends him a text afterwards:  
  
_Have you really started the investigation already? Alone? It’s a Special Investigative Unit, agent D.O., u-n-i-t. Get back to the quarters. now. This is a command  
._  
Kyungsoo reads the text with a frown. It’s the first time Junmyeon has sounded so reprimanding to him. Yes, he was strict to the others, but Kyungsoo always had a treatment from him like he was trusted, like Junmyeon thinks Kyungsoo knows what to do. All these shows how Junmyeon is shaken too. Kyungsoo types a short and quick reply.  
  
_SIU isn’t formed until autopsy result is out. Can’t._  
  
They would have gotten rid of the car if FBI moves any later. Kyungsoo won’t even let a day pass. He turns his phone off and walks, peeking through the neighboring houses. Nothing looks out of order. A family of four lives next door, gathered in the living room visible from outside. A girl lives in the house across the street, performing a round of stretching with earphones on. She pulls her curtains down with a frown upon noticing the agent. Kyungsoo writes those in his notebook.  
  
He walks to check the next block, observant to the environment around the area. Then something rustles from behind him, a sound made from shoes, leaves, and concrete contact. Alerted, Kyungsoo quickly grabs the revolver hidden in his sides and turns around. What welcomes him is a face from a distant memory, both hands already up and stiff in the air.  
  
“Woah.” The man gasps, eyes widening in surprise as he takes a step back.  
  
“Who are you?” Kyungsoo hisses, scanning the man’s features and his intimidating height. He has permed, brown hair, too big eyes, too big ears, too big everything, Kyungsoo searches for his name in the back of his mind— from criminal profiles, most-wanted list, co-agent associations _—_ and finds none. The man doesn’t answer and Kyungsoo takes a step forward, gun still pointed at the man. “I asked a question.”  
  
“Calm down.” The man chuckles. “The Audi is here.”  
  
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes around, in search for any sign of a black luxury vehicle. There’s none. “What do you mean?”  
  
He shrugs. “Just my guts.”  
  
His guts. Kyungsoo almost laughs. He stays rooted to his position instead, ready to shoot the guy any minute now. “Who are you?”  
  
“Park Chanyeol, investigating the chain murders occurring in the city.” He takes a step forward and offers a handshake, ignoring the fact that Kyungsoo still has a revolver, a powerful m1917, pointed directly at him. “Let’s work together.”  
  
_Park Chanyeol._ Kyungsoo repeats the name in his head. He’s never heard of it, but Kyungsoo’s sure he’s seen him somewhere. Few years ago? No, maybe not. Earlier this morning? Yesterday?  
  
Chanyeol brings his disregarded hand up and mimics a position holding a microphone. “ _Reporting for News Flash, Park Ch—“_  
  
“Okay stop.” Kyungsoo internally coos in realization, he brings the gun down and hides it in its casing. A civilian passes by, suspicious of their presence; Kyungsoo gives him a small smile before turning back at Chanyeol. “I get it. I recognize you.”  
  
“Good.” The reporter grins, “Now let’s get down to busi—“  
  
“No.” Kyungsoo proceeds to walk, leaving the man behind. He stares at him, confused.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You better go home, Mr. Park. I’m not fit to playing games with you.”  
  
“You still don’t trust me?” Chanyeol fishes for his identification card, running after the agent and shoving it in his face. Bad haircut, bad skin, sleepy face, Park Chanyeol, MBS News, big bold PRESS written in the center. Kyungsoo studies it and hums in amusement.  
  
“Well, you look like shit. Better go back to your company and get a new one.”  
  
“Oh, C’mon.” Chanyeol shoves the thing into his pocket, grabbing Kyungsoo, who had just started walking again, in the arms. “We’d do better together, I—“  
  
A crashing sound few meters away from them echoes, loud enough for the pair to hear but not to alert the neighbors. Kyungsoo looks at Chanyeol and Chanyeol looks back at Kyungsoo. They blink, before Kyungsoo shrugs Chanyeol’s grip away and jogs into the direction of the noise. Chanyeol carefully trails behind him.  
  
They find themselves in front of an abandoned factory, crouching to peek at a crack in the wall. Kyungsoo finds a black Audi— _the_ black Audi, Kyungsoo could swear with his life— dumped in one corner of the large room, ruthlessly crushed until it could no longer be recognized, if not for the logo in the front gear. Then a man in black shirt destroys the logo with a huge presser, crushing all hopes for a tangible evidence.  
  
“That’s it, I swear that’s it!” The reporter roughly whispers.  
  
Kyungsoo wants to shoo the man away, to scream, _shut the fuck up Mr. Park,_ but he settles for a glare and an “I know” just to quiet down, avoiding further argument.  
  
“I can't believe you let them get a lead.” One of the guys, the taller one with toned muscles, speaks. Kyungsoo presses his ears on the wall.  
  
“How could I have known that car had a blackbox?” Another voice echoes.  
  
“I don’t care how but you _should_ have.” The tall one retaliates, tone now angry.  
  
“Stop it. Now isn’t the time to fight.” A third voice appears. Kyungsoo hears guns being loaded. “How about we start tracing our fourth target?”  
  
_Fourth target._ Kyungsoo clenches his fist as an image of a kind smile and pure eyes flashes through his memory. He knows too well who that fourth target may be.  
  
“Yeah, you’re right. Can’t be dwelling on one when there’s eleven—“ the voice is stopped when suddenly, a deep sneezing sound ricochets. Kyungsoo suddenly turns at the reporter beside him, hands both covering his lips a little too late.  
  
Chanyeol sniffs. “Actually, I’m allergic to dust.” He whispers.  
  
“Who’s there!?” One of the three men shouts, footsteps sounding closer.  
  
_Holy shit. Holy fucking shit._ Kyungsoo weighs his option. He can fight a group of three. He _can,_ being more than bullets and guns, but Kyungsoo could be in that target list, and that would be spoon-feeding them with his whereabouts. He glances at Chanyeol, all red nose and nervous face. He can use the guy as bait as to not be traced and flee the place on his own— he wouldn’t be in this mess if not for the lousy reporter anyway— except he wants to kill Chanyeol with his own hands.  
  
“Fuck it.” Kyungsoo fishes for his mask and his handkerchief hurriedly, throwing the latter at Chanyeol. “You piece of shit, wear that. Can’t have them see our faces.”  He says before standing up. “If you can’t keep up, you die.”  
  
And thus the run starts.  
  
The door opens just as Chanyeol gathers enough strength for his knees to stand up and trail after Kyungsoo. The guy in ripped pants spots two figures running and calls for his companions immediately. A moment later, Kyungsoo realizes the three are already after them, chasing them with gunshots.  
  
Kyungsoo grabs Chanyeol, who’s already slowing down to catch his breath, by the arm for a sudden turn at a curb, a straight dash, and another turn. And then Kyungsoo sees a river— a chance to lure the enemies away. He pushes the reporter into the water before he takes a deep breath, jumping in.  
  
And the world was black in Chanyeol’s eyes.

 

 

 

  
  
\--

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
Chanyeol feels soft lips right above his.  
  
It reminds him of clouds, of sleeping with his favorite pillow in his favorite bed under his favorite blanket on his favorite lazy Sunday morning, of a boy from twelve years ago—  
  
The soft lips move away. A pressure in his chest replaces it instead. “Mr. Park? Mr. Park you shit, don’t you dare die on me.”  
  
Chanyeol chokes on an ample amount of water suddenly travelling through his air tube, almost spitting it off right in the face of an already wet FBI agent, had he not managed to pull away, as he opens his eyes on a blink.  
  
“What happened!?” Chanyeol immediately exclaims.  
  
“Looks like you’re good.” Kyungsoo’s lips slightly twitched, and Chanyeol could have sworn he had just smiled, before Kyungsoo stands up and leaves Chanyeol lying on the floor. “We’re safe, for now. We jumped into the water. You fucking fainted.” Kyungsoo turns around and faces Chanyeol again. “You haven’t even swum an inch and you were already unconscious. Wow.”  
  
“Sorry.” Chanyeol swallows a lump in his throat. “I... I-It’s not that I can’t swim. But I’m just— I’m afraid of the river.”  
  
“You’re afraid of water?” Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow.  
  
“No.” Chanyeol was quick to decline. “I’m not afraid of water, I like to bathe. I like pools, too. But huge, endless bodies of water, with unknown depths and unknown creatures— they frighten me. They make me feel…” He shrugs. “powerless.”  
  
“Powerless.” Kyungsoo dwells on the word. It hangs in his throat for too long.  
  
“How did we get here?” Chanyeol asks after a minute.  
  
“Well. I managed to pull you.”  
  
Chanyeol gives the agent an elevator look, absorbing his narrow shoulders and petite height. “You did?”  
  
Kyungsoo tries not to feel intimidated under that gaze and gives the reporter a sharp glare. “In my defense, your height didn’t give me the impression that you’d drown, too.”  
  
Chanyeol stands up, holding his knees for support. “Sorry.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking with apologetic eyes at Kyungsoo. “I didn’t mean to mess this up.”  
  
The agent removes his coat, leaving him with nothing but thin wet white shirt. He twists the cloth to extract the water absorbed in it. “You didn’t mean to, but you did.” He softly mumbles, hanging the cloth in his shoulders and looking back at Chanyeol. “I hope you learned your lesson of not sticking your nose into dangerous business. Now, go home.” He says in a flat, cold voice, before walking away and leaving Chanyeol alone.  


 

 

 

 

  
  
\--

 

 

 

  
  
  
Kyungsoo is, in the most fundamental sense of the word, careful. He’d opt to do his work without his hands getting dirty, to leave without a single trace of his being, to move quietly like a hunter eyeing on his prey, to do everything by the book— so when this tall and clumsy reporter who almost got them killed on yesterday’s investigation showed up in his doorstep, Kyungsoo couldn’t be any nicer than slamming the door in his face.  
  
“OPEN THE DOOR! SIR! AGENT! SIR!”  
  
Kyungsoo ignores the disturbance at his door with the best of his ability, carrying on with his task of preparing breakfast. He ties the sashes of his apron around his back, grabs a bowl and prepares a pancake mix. After cooking them in a pan, Kyungsoo puts his earphones on and gracefully eats.  
  
By the time Kyungsoo had finished his food and removed his earphones, the loud banging in his door had already stopped, yet Kyungsoo can still see a shadow on the gap between the front door and the floor. He stares at the pancakes he weren’t able to consume— unconsciously he prepared twice more than his usual amount— and then wraps them in a plastic foil before proceeding to wash the dishes.  
  
When he comes out ten minutes later, he spots Chanyeol leaning his head on a column.  
  
“Kyungsoo!” The reporter exclaims hopefully as soon as he spots Kyungsoo, looking like a lost puppy.  
  
“Agent D.O.” Kyungsoo corrects, throwing the wrapped pancakes at Chanyeol’s lap. The reporter happily tears the foil and takes a bite. “How did you know my name? More importantly, my address?” He doesn’t even bother to hide the disgust in his voice.  
  
“I have my connections.” The reporter replies, mouth full with pancake. Kyungsoo wonders how he is able to speak straight.  
  
He raises an eyebrow. “Connections?”  
  
Chanyeol only beams at Kyungsoo, a crumb of pancake in his cheeks. Kyungsoo lets it slide because he doesn’t really feel threatened by the reporter, more like he’s threatened how he _isn’t_ threatened at all. “I really wanted to work with you.” Chanyeol turns his body, facing Kyungsoo. “Please let me help you, I won’t be that much of a bother anymore, I promise.”  
  
“ _That much_ , huh?” Kyungsoo snorts. “This is a dangerous business, Mr. Park. You don’t want to be tangled in this mess.”  
  
“I know.” Chanyeol retaliates. “I assure you, I’ve came out alive from a number of dangerous business.”  
  
Kyungsoo stays silent for a minute, contemplating the idea of working with Chanyeol. Someone from the media could help, but at the same time can make things even worse. “Were reporters always this involved?”  
  
Chanyeol shrugs, tucking the plastic wrap into his handbag and grabbing a bottle of water from it. “I don’t know about the others. But I especially don’t want to do things half-assed, that’s why.”  
  
“Passionate.“ Kyungsoo mumbles as Chanyeol gulps cold water down his throat. It’s admirable to him, really, how someone can put so much effort into his work.  
But this is too much, _you can’t handle this_ , he doesn’t tell Chanyeol.  
  
“Am I in?” Chanyeol asks hopefully, wiping the water dripping from the side of his mouth.  
  
Kyungsoo stands up, “I am not obliged to help you.” Chanyeol frowns at this. Kyungsoo strides towards the door into his house, leaving it open. “But I don’t want any disturbance when I’m doing my work.”  
  
It takes a minute before the frown in Chanyeol’s face is replaced by a smile.  
  
“That was a yes, right?”  


 

 

 

 

  
  
\--

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
It’s a Tuesday, a day out of the FBI headquarters, thankfully— Kyungsoo still feels his legs aching from the adventure four days ago— but Kyungsoo is baffled to find a text from Junmyeon telling him not to come to work for the rest of the month. He dials Junmyeon, ready to complain, but the older immediately assures him right after picking up that he’s still part and the head of SIU, but will be claiming office at home.  
  
“This is paranoia.” Kyungsoo debates.  
  
From the other end of the line, he hears Junmyeon take a deep breath. “ _Kyungsoo.”_  
  
_Kyungsoo,_ he repeats in his mind. Junmyeon has rarely called him by the name, and this often indicates how particular the agent is. Junmyeon tells him it’s a preventive measure for the enemies seeing his face. It shouldn’t have been possible, but Junmyeon had always held strings among his men.  
  
“A-Alright. Sir.”  
  
Kyungsoo ends the call and drops his weight down the couch, tossing his phone off somewhere. He rubs his temple with a hand, eyes closed. It’d be harder to work with his team with this distance.  
  
“What happened?” Chanyeol’s voice echoes. The reporter had been coming everyday since three days ago, waiting at Kyungsoo’s doorstep for the agent to come home from work. As expected, Kyungsoo didn’t allow Chanyeol to come with him to the headquarters to provide unnecessary information leaks to happen, although Chanyeol had vowed not to write anything without permission.  
  
He was so quiet, surprisingly, researching on his own, to the point Kyungsoo forgot of his presence.  
  
Kyungsoo only sighs, no plans in replying. His laptop beeps, indicating a new mail, and Kyungsoo wears his specs to check it out. Junmyeon’s name flashes, inviting him to a group chat with one other person. The attached letter says:  
  
_This is the Special Investigative Unit._  
  
Two members, Kyungsoo knows this is as much as he can get. Junmyeon wouldn’t risk too much uninvolved people for this case. He swivels his mouse and finds no attached information about the other member. He leans back the couch, contemplating who it might be. Half of _them_ became FBI agents to maintain connections within the government and to provide themselves with access to private information while the other half chose a normal, unsuspicious livelihood. Minseok is currently stationed in China along with Jongdae, which eliminates the both of them from the list. One of them had already died, while Sehun and Jongin are both under Kyungsoo’s command on his normal unit.  
  
For Junmyeon not to give details nor even a name, can his partner be someone unrelated, after all?  
  
“Something I can help you with?” The reporter steps closer, taking a peek at Kyungsoo’s laptop.  
  
Kyungsoo shuts the lid down swiftly before Chanyeol could even read anything. “What have you found out?”  
  
Chanyeol tries not to pout, shrugging his shoulders. “Song Leehyub, the man who we had identified yesterday as the owner of the house, the Audi, and the warehouse, actually doesn’t exist.”  
  
Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “What?”  
  
“It’s a dummy.” He answers, looking through the papers in his hand. “Although one of my colleagues identified the name to be associated with of the person he had interviewed before.”  
  
“And that would be?”  
  
“Lee Sungmin.”  
  
Recognition instantly hits Kyungsoo as he hears the name. Lee Sungmin is the right hand of _that man_ , the one who posed as their father, definitely the one who wants them dead this time. Kyungsoo brings his hands on his chin, a crease on his eyebrows. “That has got to be it.” He doesn’t need anymore evidence. Kyungsoo is a hundred percent sure now.  
  
_After giving us this pathetic fate, now they want us dead, great._  
  
Just then, a knock is heard, interrupting Kyungsoo’s thoughts.  
  
Chanyeol looks at Kyungsoo, before slowly standing up and walking to the door, Kyungsoo’s silent stare giving him a signal to be cautious.  Chanyeol grips on the knob and takes a deep breath.  
  
When he opens the door, Kyungsoo’s eyes widen even more as a man with pure eyes and kind smile greet the both of them.  
  
Kyungsoo stands to his feet. “Yixing.”

 

 

 

  
  
\--

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m being hunted.” That was the first and only sentence the unknown guest had to say and Kyungsoo is already dashing forward, walking past Chanyeol and pulling Yixing inside before slamming the door shut. He closed all the curtains and turned all the lights on while Chanyeol helped him, albeit confused.  
  
They are now gathered in the living room, after Kyungsoo had prepared tea to welcome his guest. Chanyeol sits uncomfortably at the edge of the sofa, looking at the pair talking rather comfortably in front of him. It’s been half an hour since the unknown guest had arrived, and Chanyeol couldn’t catch anything from what they are saying at all. They’re all memories from a past they shared together, memories Chanyeol isn’t a part of.  
  
Yixing would look his way so often though, and would smile. Chanyeol would awkwardly smile back.  
  
After receiving a message that indicates ‘ _clear’_ from his subordinates around the area, Kyungsoo finally encourages Yixing to speak.  
  
“Tell me what happened.”  
  
Yixing tells him of how he was attacked while he was working on his clinic. A patient who happened to be there was killed, and Yixing wasn’t even given the chance to save him, even if _he could have_. Kyungsoo listens with a hollow feeling in his chest. The three first deaths must have taken its toll on him, especially since they were his team in most missions, and yet he has to face this again.  
  
“You know I’m the most useless, and you were the strongest among us, had always been.” Yixing utters.  
  
Kyungsoo frowns at this. “You are not useless. You have a wonderful ability.”  
  
Yixing looks at his palms. “What should I do?”  
  
“You were the strongest?” Chanyeol couldn’t help but butt in. “What does he mean? Kyungsoo— are you one of them? Are you on that list?”  
  
Kyungsoo only shrugs, turning at Yixing. “Suho has a hideout in China.”  
  
“But I wanted to be of some help.” Yixing disagrees.  
  
“You will be.” Kyungsoo assures him. Jongdae is currently there, healing himself from the damages of his last mission and Yixing’s presence would help Jongdae a lot. The place will secure his safety, too.  
  
Ten minutes later, Kyungsoo receives a text and suddenly tensions upon reading it. He quickly grabs a gun and loads it to his sides, alerting his two companions. “Both of you, there’s an underground passageway beneath my bed, hurry and someone will meet you there.” He turns at Yixing, “Jongin will be there.”  
  
“What about yo—“ before Chanyeol could ask for any explanation, an explosion tears down the façade of Kyungsoo’s house, revealing three men they met not too long ago.  
  
“Hurry!” Kyungsoo orders.  
  
Chanyeol is nowhere near leaving Kyungsoo, he’d declared since the agent allowed to work with him that they’re comrades, partners, but Kyungsoo is looking at him with pleading eyes, and Chanyeol could almost guess what they were trying to say. Fighting his hesitation, Chanyeol grabs Yixing in the arms and pulls him, leading him to Kyungsoo’s bedroom.  
  
One of the men orders the two others two run after Chanyeol and Yixing, but Kyungsoo stops them by shooting one of them right in the stomach, making him immediately fall to the ground. Then Kyungsoo runs toward his bedroom, swiftly hiding in the wall to protect himself from the bullets chasing him, but not before getting hit in his right arm.  
  
“Shit.” He curses, applying pressure to the wounded area.  
  
With the pain in his arms and his mind in total chaos, Kyungsoo fails to notice the man he shot earlier crawling his way until the man actually shot a gun at him. Without even realizing, Kyungsoo falls to the ground.  
  
Then suddenly he couldn’t gather strength to stand up from the fall anymore. He tries to clench his fist, but he can’t move his muscles at all. He feels numb, like blood hadn’t been properly flowing down his veins, his eyes being the only thing he can control. He manages to roll them only to see two pair of feet coming his way.  
  
_Shot with paralysis drug._  
  
That was one of the things Kyungsoo wrote in his notebook, three times beneath three names. Now he wonders who will be the one to write the fourth—his —name.  
_One shot in the chest, one shot in the head._  
  
With an invisible frown, Kyungsoo wonders if this is all he can do, if this was all he was made for.  
  
He closes his eyes, waiting for the final shots.  
  
Except what he hears is not bullet shots, but the creaking sound of something burning, something warm, and yet furious. When he opens his eyes, what he sees is his house getting devoured with flames, along with two of their three pursuers, and Chanyeol’s hand, where all the flame is coming from.

 

 

  
  
  
\--

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo taps his pen continuously on the coffee table, looking irritably at his companion seated at the couch perpendicular to his. He’s a little grumpy, having been just recovered from god-knows-how-long of being paralyzed, aside from that, the bullet shot on his right arm is stinging too.  He doesn’t like the feeling of inferiority he’s having right now, not if it’s not Junmyeon. He can’t even remember who stopped his bleeding, or what day of the week it is, or where he is even right now.  
  
“You’re probably the only agent who still uses pen and paper. Everyone I’ve worked with use tablets, you know?” Chanyeol off-handedly comments.  
  
With that as a cue to release his fury, Kyungsoo darts his pen right into Chanyeol’s forehead. _You idiot. You shit head. You dumbo ears._  
  
Chanyeol covers his forehead with both his hands, trying not to tear up from the pain. “W-what was that for?”  
  
“So it was you?” Kyungsoo almost yells, standing up to control the frustration building up in his chest. “You were _him_? You were that Chan—How are you—“

“ _that Chan?”_ The reporter mimics, confused.  
  
“You were supposed to be dead.” Kyungsoo saw it himself, how the people who raised them killed Chanyeol’s dad for running away, how they almost killed his mom, how Chanyeol turned those guys into ashes, and how another man appeared to finally kill Chanyeol. Kyungsoo had seen in with his own eyes, hidden in the closet where Chanyeol had shoved him, _how I have lost you, how I wasn’t able to do anything._  
  
Kyungsoo allows himself to scream. “You fucking idiot! You were supposed to be the safest one. Why did you have to come back and reveal yourself?”

Startled, Chanyeol gazes at the agent warily. “What do you mean?”  
  
“You should have run away!”  
  
“B-but…” Chanyeol looks down, eyeing the marble-tiled floor. “I couldn’t have let you die, though.”  
  
The words struck Kyungsoo loud and hard. Unlike that twelve year old boy who wasn’t able to do anything for his best friend, for someone who had always protected him, for that one whose back he always hid behind, Chanyeol risked his life to save a person he hasn’t even known for a week.

“I can’t understand you, I…” Chanyeol scratches the back of his neck. “Did I die?”  
  
Kyungsoo sighs, shaking his head and taking a seat again. “Supposedly.”  He lets the couch support his whole weight as he rubs his temples with his fingers.  “Where were you when you were twelve?”  
  
“Twelve?” Chanyeol raises an eyebrow. Kyungsoo shoots it back to him. “Well, it’s just weird that you asked it, because all my memories actually start from when I was twelve. Beyond that, I couldn’t remember anymore.” He answers and Kyungsoo could feel his heart throbbing in his chest. “Anyway, I lived in China with my mom. “  
  
Kyungsoo sits up again. “Y-you have the power… of Fire.”  
  
“Oh, that.” Chanyeol rests his elbows in his knees, his chin on his hands. “I found out about it when I was thirteen. You know adolescence, I was curious of all things. Our house only had an electrical stove back then. It was cold in the winter, but we use floor heaters rather than a fireplace. We settled in a smoke-free community too. Mom kept the place so that we could survive with energy sources other than fire.”  
  
And maybe it was instinct, maybe it was in his blood, maybe it was a permanent part of him.  Chanyeol was just observing hardworking ants in their lawn with a magnifying glass one summer day when suddenly, the weeds under the lens started to be burned, and a small, blue and orange strip appears before him, drawing him closer, inviting him to play.  
  
His mom found him in the lawn that afternoon, happily experimenting with fireballs. He didn’t even have time to boast about his newfound ability when suddenly she broke down and cried. _We can’t run away, no matter where we go, we can’t run away,_ she told him, and then kept on crying and crying with him in her arms.

“It turned into depression, so I decided to hide my ability from everyone, my mom especially. I pretended that it was of sheer luck that I was able to do that and I couldn’t manage to do it anymore.”  
  
“But… you were so strong.” Kyungsoo mumbles. It’s impossible to produce that amount of fire without any source but his own energy. In fact, if he didn’t constantly use it, Kyungsoo thinks he won’t even be able to control that much even if it has a source.  
  
“I had been training in secret, under my legal guardian.” Chanyeol reasons.  
  
“Legal guardian?”  
  
“Yeah.” He nods. “He owns this house, actually.”  
  
There’s a strange feeling in Kyungsoo’s chest as he swallows. This must be what Chanyeol referred to as guts. “Who is he?”  
  
“That would be me.”  A voice from behind Kyungsoo appears, instantly lighting up Chanyeol’s face, while Kyungsoo stiffens in his seat because _he knows that voice._ He knows that voice too well. “Junmyeon?” Kyungsoo tries, still not facing the other way.  
  
“Why don’t you face this way, Kyungsoo.” _Kyungsoo,_ he called him _Kyungsoo_ , and that was his only grip of this man not being Junmyeon, but as he turned around, albeit slowly, what welcomes him is the face of a smiling senior agent of his.  
  
“Why is it you?” Kyungsoo dumbly asks. _Three down,_ he remembers Junmyeon saying. So this was it? Kyungsoo inwardly bites his lips. He knows of Junmyeon’s capabilities being way above all of them, how he is always two steps ahead, but never in a thousand possibilities did Kyungsoo thought hiding Chanyeol away was one of them. “W— How?”  
  
“I had to do what I had to do.” Junmyeon walks towards the couch, sitting next to Chanyeol with a now solemn face. “Too bad this time I was three deaths too late.”  
  
Kyungsoo looks down, twitching his fingers together. “Why did you lure Chanyeol into me?”  
  
“Haven’t you been waiting for that day? That you get to be with him again.”  
  
Kyungsoo looks at Chanyeol, who only looks back at him and blinks in confusion. “Yeah. I do but…” Kyungsoo grits his teeth. He can’t explain what he’s feeling right now— frustration, anger, relief— all he knows is that there’s a fire in his chest, burning through his soul, that fire that hadn’t been there since twelve years ago. “How could you not have told me?”  
  
“It was for the best.” There’s still so many things Kyungsoo wants to ask, so many questions he needs an answer but Junmyeon brief reply is telling him to stop. _How was it for the best? Why did you bring him here now? Why did he become a reporter of all things? Identity exposed to millions of people?_  
  
_Why can’t he remember me?_  
  
Chanyeol clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “I— I’m sorry to spoil the mood but… I can’t understand. What is going on?” He asks, looking genuinely unaware as his gaze travel from Kyungsoo to Junmyeon.  As far as he knows, Kyungsoo is Junmyeon’s subordinate and the assigned head of the SIU which investigates what happened to be his report. He simply asked for Kyungsoo’s details to get a better perspective on the case— and for some reason became a member of the SI unit— but his involvement seems to be something more, something _deeper_.  “Who am I exactly?”  
  
Junmyeon looks at him and slightly smiles. “It’s about time.”  
  
As Junmyeon stands, another figure appears from the shadows and reveals its presence, Yixing.

 

 

 

  
  
\--

 

 

  
  
  
  
It was on the 26th of March, year 1990, when the first of them was born, Kim Minseok, the one with the power of Frost. He’s one of the first set of man-made genetically designed fetus, entered into a woman’s womb to be conceived, to be raised until adolescence, only to be taken away to do the dirty work for the government. He was a child born from ambition and greed of power, rather than of love.  
  
The child’s ability was proven two seconds prior to his birth, after he almost froze his mother to death. Watching his choking mother as he cried helplessly beside her, his creators were nothing but ecstatic. A month later, another creation is born.  
  
They continued producing what they called as superhumans, adding improvements with each experiment, but there was one thing they could not achieve, and that was immortality. Every one of them had the ability to die, and they had emotions as fragile as humans. Years later, the creators themselves will find this useful.  
  
By the first half of 1994, there exist the twelve of them, and they were called EXO.  
  


 

 

 

  
\--

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
Chanyeol opens his eyes as he sits up, a sting of pain in his head making it hard for him to do the task. There are memories, faces and places Chanyeol’s never seen that started flashing through his mind the moment he looked at Yixing’s eyes. Kyungsoo was there, Junmyeon too, and few other kids he trusted and treated like a second family. Memories of playing together, sharing the pain and agony of being different, of strong, unbreakable bonds flashes through him and his head aches even more.  
  
As bizarre as it was, the memories were unfamiliar, but not strange, like Chanyeol knew they were a part of him, like he knew they were _his._  
  
The last piece of memories that appears before him is his twelve year-old self crying, his mom unconscious on the bed, Junmyeon comforting him, and then Yixing standing at one corner before walking and approaching him, looking straight into his eyes just like how he did just now. “You’ll have to go in a good long sleep.” Yixing had uttered then.  
  
And he did have a good, long sleep.  
  
“Are you alright?” Yixing’s voice snaps him back to the present.  
  
Chanyeol almost couldn’t speak. He clenches his fist to gather his voice. “What was that?”  
  
“Are they all back?” Yixing only smiles. “I’m sorry for taking them away from you.”  
  
Chanyeol runs his hand through his hair. His head still hurts, but something inside him hurts even more. It feels hollow, and yet it’s so painful. It felt as if a portion of his life has been ripped off and stolen, only to be returned when he couldn’t even feel its absence anymore.  He had always felt like something was wrong, like something was missing and yet now his heart couldn’t handle the amount of information well like how his brain can.  
  
Then suddenly a hand holds his, warmly, gently, and rubs his thumb over the back of his hand. Chanyeol looks up to Kyungsoo kneeling in front of him.  
  
“We’re sorry.” He apologizes. “ _I’m sorry_.”  
  
Chanyeol doesn’t know how long he had been absorbed with his thoughts, but Junmyeon and Yixing are already out of sight. It’s just the two of them right now, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, and the number of years they lost in the gap between their fingers.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Kyungsoo whispers, resting his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder.  
  
They stay like that for a while, Kyungsoo hiding his face from Chanyeol, thinking about everything that has happened ‘til now.  He had trained, had executed missions like a good puppet, had run in circles, all for the sake of getting his revenge.  
  
But those don’t even matter to him anymore.  
  
Then he hears Chanyeol’s faint laugh.  
  
Kyungsoo lifts his head up. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Chanyeol shakes his head.  “No, it’s just that— it’s cute how you can change from someone who darts me with a pen so angrily into someone leaning in my shoulder right now, looking so vulnerable.“ He laughs again and Kyungsoo feels a heavy weight being lifted of his shoulders. Chanyeol is still that same old boy who doesn’t want to burden others with his feelings and waves negativities off with his smile. Yes, this was _him._ He is that boy, no matter what.  
  
“It makes me want to hug you.” Chanyeol adds, chuckling.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t even remember how it feels to get flustered, too caught up in his fate of revenge to even care about teenager stuffs, but as Chanyeol giggles again, pointing out how red he is, he actually feels glad to feel such emotions of humans, despite not being one. He wraps his arms around Chanyeol and pulls him into a sweet and longing kiss.  
  
And maybe they are still in the middle of running for their lives, maybe crying in relief isn’t what he should be doing, but Kyungsoo has Chanyeol back and that is more than enough to bring him back to his feet. He parts with him and rests their foreheads together.  
  
“We will stop them.” Kyungsoo confidently states, and Chanyeol couldn’t agree more.  
  
They _will._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> so this is just another repost. im slowly migrating here to ao3 so... :)  
> i'm thinking of deleting my lj soon.


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